


Mano Kariai

by vilepie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Folk Music, Gen, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29616924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilepie/pseuds/vilepie
Summary: Win, or lose, these were his people. Win, or lose, Tolys wouldn’t hesitate to take a sword through the chest for them.
Kudos: 6





	Mano Kariai

Nothing he felt provided absolute comfort, but neither was it comparable to what he was sure to feel once the sun lost its battle to the moon, regardless of the outcome of his own battle. Win, or lose, there would be physical, or political agony to face, and that was the reason behind the closest thing to discomfort he felt at the moment. Tolys was anxious, eyes set on his fingers as he dug his nails into his own flesh. Had the tree stump he sat upon cross legged been any higher from the pine stray laden forest floor, his leg was certain tremble, and force his nail further than he intended. He could taste the apprehension in the air just as much as he could almost taste peat, and pine, yet the men around him were able to take pleasure in socializing. 

There were supposed to be twenty of them in his care at the moment, and, despite the fact that the number was low, Tolys knew he couldn’t concentrate enough to determine if anyone had snuck off. Most of the men sat in groups of three, or four, their low conversations meshing together as they floated over to where he sat. 

The nearest to him was about two feet away, and lounging against the trunk of a tree, head back, and eyes closed. They were similarly dressed, the man being Tolys’ assigned second in command, though they had yet to meet each other until before the sun rose that morning. The distinguishing factor, aside from the colours they adorned, was a cape attached to a rope that looped around Tolys’ shoulder. The deep green cloth reached down to his knees that were covered by a pair of brown pants, and concealed half of his short sleeved brown tunic that lay atop a long sleeved undershirt whose hue matched that of the cape. 

He was relatively happy with his appearance, but he couldn’t speak for the other. No words about clothing had been exchanged, the factor that left Tolys guessing being the way his lips were twisted into a frown. Probably tired, having suffered through hours of walking to get to their current location, yet Tolys couldn’t comprehend how anyone could sleep under these conditions. It was near frigid, not that anyone was really surprised, or even minded, and the only cushion they had was straw, and dirt. Not the worst, but fear brewing among the men only exalted the faults. 

Tolys had been in this situation countless times, even more so than the experienced warriors he was given charge of. It was frustrating, the thought that the people he was surrounded by now could die. They looked cheerful for the most part, laughter filling the silence as well. They were just men, most of them young, who had hobbies. Some danced, some farmed, and others had children. One man had brought a horn, and a pan flute, currently using the later to woo two others with hushed tunes.

Hushed eventually grew louder as Tolys sat, thoughts flitting from bloodshed, to memories of home, and he paused in his fretting of all that he could lose when the man beside him groaned. He was standing up, heading over to the group, and Tolys didn’t question it. He was probably going to scold them for being too noisy, or possibly join them, and either was fine. They were too far away from any other to be heard, the only issue at hand being scaring off animals or attracting courageous rogues. 

The question was quickly answered when Tolys’ eyes followed him to his destination, where he then sat in the dirt, and exchanged some unheard words with the man who held the flute. Moments later, the resonant playing resumed, heads turning towards the group that had grown to four. Another man by the name of Kazys, a former advisor of the king, had shuffled over on his knees, plopping down next to one of the companions of the instrument bearing man. 

Tolys' interest grew when Kazys dug through one of the satchels slung over his shoulder, his hands remerging from the bag with two wooden cubes. He had known the man for years, the two of them even going as far to have dinner together with Feliks, and Kateryna on multiple occasions. At one dinner with some of the government’s higherups, Kazys had arisen from his seat to join in with a handful of women, and men who had been brought in to play a variety of instruments. Tolys wasn’t entirely sure how much of a musician the man was, having only experienced a few minutes of mediocre lute playing, but he began bashing the cubes together with a prideful grin. 

It only took moments for the beat to catch the attention of the rest, some of them inching closing, and others nodding along as the flute took on a lower set of notes. The two had their fun together, Tolys wondering if they had even spoken to each other, for quite a while before the key changed yet again, bringing chanting of one of the nearby warriors with it. 

There was a collective realization, fear melting away as the men one by one joined in. One of the more seasoned of the group had pulled out a horn, refusing to use it but keeping it tight within his grip. The pattern was easy to pick up, the first line of the song being replayed in an attempt to get everyone accustomed to the new atmosphere. Tolys hadn’t moved, quickly becoming the odd one out as the men assembled, and his mind also decided to remain in one place. The only thing in his head was the pan flute, cubes, and far from flashy singing. 

After almost every head had been turned, one man continued on to the next line, and the rest made haste in following suite. The sound of Lithuanian, something that wasn’t necessarily spoken by those around him as an every day occurrence, rushed into his ears, and flooded the other languages that had built homes in his mind. It was refreshing, a reminder that those around him were surely his children, and his chest ached as waves of pride crashed over him. 

Tolys cleared his throat, momentarily breaking his smile, and joined in, pronouncing each word with ferocity just as the rest. It was a war song, a song of praise for their military strength, and everyone was treating it as such. Hands clapped, feet stomped, and occasionally over the words of the song, hollers sounded. 

As the music continued, a couple of voices chimed in to show admiration for the current king, and his subordinates. The statement was truthful, their leader showing the right amount of kindness, and the right amount of discipline. Tolys had grown close with him, and the music encouraged him to share his own opinion over the singing. The words caused a couple of heads to turn, their smiles unwavering as they stared their leader down. Momentary regret burst into a sense of dignity, and the combustion sent tears down Tolys’ cheeks.

Win, or lose, these were his people. Win, or lose, Tolys wouldn’t hesitate to take a sword through the chest for them.

**Author's Note:**

> being a history nerd is what led me to hetalia. i have always loved old folk songs from multiple cultures, and listening to them invokes a lot of emotions. pride, joy, i really don't know. point is, i teared up writing this. i listened to oi šermukšnio, by the way, and i think it really sets the vibe. i tried to look into the history on that song, and i didn't find enough to say i know anything for sure, but it certainly was written in the style described be it old, or new. thanks for reading! have a lovely day! :D


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